CHAPTER XVIII The doctor reached for the key and studied it sombrely. "No Blueskin, I perceive, Sir," he observed, in a deferential tone, as Wild entered the Lodge. Michelle moaned and Lucy, unable to help herself, stroked her hair. Assured, if he remained much longer where he was, he would inevitably perish, Wood recommended himself to the protection of Heaven, and began his perilous course. Then, if you weren’t looking, he’d get five feet closer.
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